By Ken Poirier
Oh, through sweet brandy-wine and red burgundy,
In our hour of divine need does thou show such discontent through set circumstance,
And yet, such wisdom of thought through harsh symbolism does thou bring.
As we drink this bitter comedy and expel the grinded jests,
In our attempts to consume the jagged meal of loss and sorrow,
We find our portions to be too over burdensome to masticate.
Teeth shatter and bellies scream with the sound of sucking air.
Too long have we been on the hunt of true sustenance,
Our bellies fail to remember that taste of vitality,
And from our mouths spew the vile bilge of audacious laughter.
But laugh naught for such as this is not a time of joy but of great sorrow,
And weep naught for the tears of emptiness will drown the last breath.
Have courage to stand and stretch your arms till the locket is clasped and clasped again,
For on this night we shall feast.
But first we must sift our meal through the meat grinder of dark thought and contemplation.